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Page 28 of Falling for Him (Honey Leaf Lodge #3)

Fifi

The first thing I felt was the sun warming my face.

The second was Ben’s arm around my waist, heavy and solid and perfect in a way that made my chest ache.

For a minute, I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t move.

I just breathed in the scent of old campfire, pine, and him.

My entire body was tangled with his under the zipped-together sleeping bags, skin to skin, and last night replayed in a slow, hazy loop in my brain.

The kiss. The laughs. The heat. The way he’d looked at me like I was more than just the innkeeper who fed him sandwiches.

But then, I heard it.

The soft rumble of an engine idling nearby.

I froze.

Ben stirred behind me. “Is that…?”

“Truck,” I whispered, eyes flying open.

“Please tell me it’s yours.”

I slowly sat up, heart thudding, only to see a vintage red pickup parked twenty feet away in the clearing.

No.

No, no, no.

The door creaked open.

And out popped Millie.

My jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Ben jolted upright, yanking the sleeping bag higher. “Is that the book club lady ?!”

“Oh my God,” I muttered, dragging the bag up to cover my chest as Millie started walking toward us, smiling.

Smiling.

Like this was just a routine visit and not a full-frontal ambush of our very naked, very entangled selves.

She was holding something in her hand. A small gray box, and my eyes narrowed.

“Morning, lovebirds!” she called, her voice way too cheerful for someone witnessing what she was witnessing.

“Millie,” I squeaked. “What are you doing here?”

She stopped beside the truck bed and grinned up at us with the unholy glee of a woman who knew. “Just thought I’d swing by and see how our little field trip turned out.”

Ben looked like someone had taken a shovel to his dignity. “This is not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” I whispered, clutching the sleeping bag tighter.

Millie held up the gray box. “I realized I had this little gem rolling around in the back of my truck. I forgot I stopped by yesterday to check up on you two, but you were nowhere to be found. Anyway, no idea how this tool got there,” she said with mock innocence, her grin deepening, “but I thought it might help you two lovebirds get home.”

She tossed it at Ben, who caught it on reflex, blinking in confusion.

“That’s… convenient,” he muttered, examining it. “What the—?”

Millie winked. “You’re welcome.”

Then she turned on her heel, strolled back to her truck, and shouted over her shoulder, “Life’s too short not to seize the day.”

And then she drove off.

Just drove off.

Ben stared at the dust trail behind her like he couldn’t quite compute it. “Did we just get bamboozled by a seventy-year-old woman?”

“Try eighty, ” I said, still trying to process the last thirty seconds of insanity. “And yes. Yes, we did.”

Ben flopped back onto the sleeping bag, covering his face with one hand. “This is the most aggressively adorable sabotage I’ve ever experienced.”

“She wiggled a wire off my truck.”

“She definitely did,” he muttered. “And then orchestrated a full romantic marooning with a fix-it part as a parting gift.”

I stared at the sky, stunned. “We’ve been Millie’d.”

Ben groaned. “There needs to be a support group.”

I couldn’t stop laughing.

The full-body, can’t-breathe, tears-in-your-eyes kind of laugh that came out of me like a pressure valve breaking open. Ben looked over, and even though he was still mostly hiding beneath the sleeping bag, his mouth twitched.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he said.

“Oh, no. I’m just picturing what I’m going to say to her the next time I see her. I think it’s somewhere between a hug and an exorcism.”

“I vote exorcism.”

“Did you see her face?” I cackled. “She was delighted. ”

“She definitely saw my face. And possibly my—”

“Okay, nope. ” I covered my ears with exaggerated flair. “This is already too much for my fragile dignity.”

Ben chuckled, rolling to his side and resting his head on his hand, still clutching the relay in the other. “Well, at least she brought this.”

I nodded, still catching my breath. “You think you can fix it?”

“We shall see.”

I looked at him then, really looked. Shirtless, sleep-tousled, pink-cheeked from embarrassment, and somehow still one of the most breathtaking things I’d ever seen.

“I kind of loved last night,” I said softly.

His eyes met mine. “Me too.”

And for one long, shining second, we forgot all about tools and sabotage and the woman who made it all happen.

But I begrudgingly got out of the truck and dressed while Ben was rifling through his clothes.

“I’ve never liked hiking so much in my life,” Ben called out as he pulled on his pants and forgot his shirt.

“Me too.” I shook my hair out and pulled it into a ponytail.

“Now, onto fixing the starter.” He took the box Millie dropped off and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“It must have been when the beaver was chasing us.”

He chuckled and opened the hood of the truck.

I leaned against a pine tree with my arms crossed, pretending I wasn’t completely mesmerized by the sight of Ben crouched under the open hood of my truck.

But let’s be honest—there’s only so long a woman can pretend not to notice a shirtless man covered in morning sunlight and elbow grease, especially when that man was fiddling with tools.

“Remind me again what you do for a living?” I called out, trying to distract myself from the way his back muscles flexed.

“Lawyer,” he said, voice muffled from beneath the hood. “Why?”

“Because you missed your calling as a hot mechanic on a calendar.”

He pulled his head up and glanced at me, one brow raised, a smudge of grease on his cheek. “You’ve been thinking about me on calendars?”

“Only since last night,” I deadpanned.

He smirked. “That’s fair. It was pretty spectacular.”

I laughed and rolled my eyes, unable to deny it.

“The big battery cable is still snug, but the small spade connector, basically the trigger wire, wiggled when I nudged it.”

“So you got this?” I asked, walking over. “Because I didn’t get the feeling she was sticking around to make sure.”

“I got this.”

He grabbed a 1/4-inch nut driver from the grey toolbox and leaned over the fender. With a little twist and pressure, he snugged the terminal onto the stud, then gave the wire a gentle tug to test it.

“Millie played dirty,” I grumbled.

“I didn’t mind.” He looked at me from under the hood and waggled his brows.

“You’re pretty handy, Florida,” I said, trying to keep it casual.

“Florida lumberjack, if I recall.” He glanced at me again.

“You’re going to keep milking that title, aren’t you?”

He leaned in further and twisted something beneath the hood. “I feel like I’ve earned it. Stranded in the woods. Fixed a truck. Survived your beaver fan club.” He realized what that sounded like and shook his head. “Not beaver as in…”

I laughed and shook my head. “I swear what I have is contagious.”

“What’s that?” he asked from under the hood.

“Foot in mouth disease.”

He peeked around the edge of the truck and gave me a devastating grin. “Not a chance. I’m always calm, cool, and collected.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

This felt dangerously good. So good that I almost forgot we were only a handful of days away from goodbye. From Ben returning to Florida, and me going back to refilling coffee pots and explaining to Millie why she couldn’t suggest blind dates during check-in.

He straightened with a grunt, wiped his hands on his jeans, and slammed the hood closed with a satisfying clunk.

“Well?” I asked.

He turned to me, one hand on the truck. “Try it.”

I slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key.

Clarabelle coughed.

Then growled.

Then—like a miracle—roared to life.

I whooped, punching the air. “Yes! You’re a wizard!”

Ben leaned on the door frame. “I’m available for roadside rescues and wilderness spooning, apparently.”

I grinned up at him. “You’re hired.”

He smiled back, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

God, I was in trouble.

We packed up our things, stowed the sleeping bags, and climbed into the cab. This time, when our shoulders brushed, we didn’t pull away. And when I caught him glancing at me as I buckled my seatbelt, his eyes softened just enough to make my pulse skip.

“You ready?” I asked, starting the truck.

He nodded. “Let’s go home.”

Home.

The word echoed through me like a warm ache.

Neither of us spoke as we drove through the woods. The road was bumpy and winding, but the quiet was comfortable. I could feel the tension bleeding out of both of us, replaced by something else, something warm and hovering just beneath the surface.

At one point, he reached across and turned the dial on my old radio, landing on a fuzzy eighties station. A sweet, electric guitar riff filled the cab, the kind that made you want to roll the windows down and drive with your hand out in the breeze.

“You like this stuff?” he asked.

“Only when I’m feeling nostalgic or emotionally compromised.”

“So... now.”

I snorted. “Maybe.”

We hit the main road again, the sun rising higher over the trees, painting everything gold. And for a moment, it felt like time had slowed just for us.

As the lodge came into view, Ben shifted in his seat and looked over at me.

“You know,” he said, “for a truck that died mid-date, this might’ve been one of the best overnights I’ve ever had.”

I turned to him, heart thudding a little too hard. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The truck bumped over the gravel, and I looked toward the lodge windows, bracing for the inevitable sight of Millie behind a curtain with binoculars.

But for now, I didn’t care.

For now, it was just us.

And even if this whole thing ended sooner than I wanted, I’d remember every second.

Especially the way he looked at me now, as if maybe, this wasn’t just about vacation.

It was about us.

And whatever came next.

But the second I stepped through the front door of Honey Leaf Lodge, I spotted her.

Sienna.

Sitting at the welcome desk with a mug of coffee and the kind of slow, smug smile that only meant one thing. She knew something.

Ben brushed past me, carrying his bag and offering Sienna a nod that somehow managed to be both polite and swoony.

“Morning,” he said.

“Good morning, Benjamin, ” Sienna replied sweetly, dragging out his name like she was stirring honey into her tea.

I elbowed her as subtly as I could while shooting Ben a tight-lipped smile. “You can go ahead and grab a shower. I’ll check on breakfast.”

Ben paused at the bottom of the stairs and looked at me, just for a second. It wasn’t a long look, but it had weight. Last night shimmered in his eyes, along with warmth, heat, and the tiniest hint of mischief.

Then he nodded and headed up the stairs.

I turned just in time for Sienna’s face to explode with suppressed delight.

“Oh. My. God, ” she hissed, her eyes wide as moons. “You did not.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, breezing past her and straightening the flower arrangement on the front table like my life depended on it.

“Oh, you so know what I’m talking about. You and Mr. Grumpy-Pants disappeared into the wilds and returned looking like two people who either wrestled a bear or—”

“Don’t.”

“—each other.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead. “You are not allowed to turn this into a thing.”

“It’s already a thing!” she whisper-squealed. “Did you see his face? He looked like a man who had just discovered warm bread and indoor plumbing.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Sienna, it’s because we were stranded in the middle of nowhere for twenty-four hours, and he did just discover indoor plumbing and warm bread.”

She leaned forward with a sly grin. “So, when’s the wedding?”

I groaned and turned on my heel, heading straight for the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be pretending I’m just a small-town innkeeper who definitely did not just spoon her guest in the woods.”

Behind me, I could hear her cackling like the absolute menace she was.

And God help me…

I was grinning too.

Because for once?

Sienna’s wild assumptions weren’t completely off the mark.

And that might’ve been the scariest, and best, part.